Shared Shadows
by truly-tazi
Summary: The paths we walk may be similar, but we need not make the same mistakes. Spike/Xander. Warning: Character death, not main pairing.


**Warnings:** Angst, Character Death (not main pairing)

**Disclaimer:** Characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon.

It was times like this Spike had to appreciate just how strong Angelus had been. Not his physical strength, no. Although that too had been formidable, but his inner strength.

He had made it seem so bloody easy. Creating a family, holding them together, protecting them, leading them, the whole thing. He seemed to do it all with the same nonchalant ease he used to pick out which of his poofy silk shirts he would wear that day.

Spike used to laugh at the stupid git. Quietly, of course. After all, he liked his insides, well, on the inside, and his psychotic sire used to take great pleasure in playing with a bloke's large intestine.

Artistic my arse, Spike thought. Angelus, even before the soul, was more than a bit nutters.

Even still, Spike used to laugh and jest that the pompous dolt put on airs, taking too much credit for a job easily done. He'd even on occasion thought how easy it would be to slip into Angelus' position, take his place as head of the family, and bask in the glow of admiration from Darla and his dark princess.

But he'd come to realize over the years that his dear sire was a vamp of many talents. One of which was making difficult jobs look easy, as if he could change the bloody world with just an arch of that neanderthal brow of his and one of his trade mark smirks. And do it, no less, without breaking a ruddy sweat.

Another talent of his sire's was raising childer. Sure the old man got off on a bit of familial torture, and he was definitely a control freak, but Spike had to grudgingly admit he was a good sire.

Angelus protected his own. Gave them exactly what they needed, even if they couldn't see at the time that was what they needed, and taught them to be strong. They were bred, all of them, to be powerful future masters. The elite of the Order of Aurelius.

Looking at his own childe now, Spike couldn't help but feel like a failure to his upbringing and everything Angelus had tried to teach him.

His childe was in pain, and he was causing it. And although he justified it by telling himself that causing Xander this bit of pain now would keep him from a greater pain later, Spike still felt like shit inside.

Every tear his childe shed was like a sharp piece of wood piercing his flesh. Every whimper a rip in his unbeating heart.

But he couldn't be weak, couldn't give in to the overwhelming urge he felt to give his childe what he wanted. What he thought he needed. Because Spike knew better. He knew the moment of joy would be short lived and followed closely by years of deep seated guilt soaked pain.

Spike knew because he'd been there, and now he would do what he must to keep his childe from that torment.

There would be pain. There would be tears. They would both be followed by anger, maybe even hatred, but Spike would endure it. He would hide his own pain, his own tears, and would be the strong sire Xander needed him to be.

Seeing the red rimmed, teary eyes once more raise to him, Spike braced himself behind a hard shell and willed his heart not to shatter.

"Please, Spike – Sire..."

"No."

More tears and Spike could feel his protective shell shift, start to give way, as he watched Xander's body tremble with the emotions threatening to overtake him.

"You could –"

"No!" Spike snapped a bit more harshly than he had wanted, then reined himself in and continued. "No, Xander. You were warned. I forbid it and you disobeyed me and bloody well did it anyway. I'm sorry, luv. I really am. But this ends here. Tonight."

Softening just a bit, he gripped Xander behind his neck and pulled him in until their foreheads touched.

"I know you're confused, luv. I know you thought you were doing the right thing. You've always had a good heart, Xander. And when you love someone that heart of yours always overrides your head. This time, Xan, that big heart of yours, though it was in the right place, has led you wrong, pet. I know you don't get why I'm doing this, but I need you to trust me now, luv. As your sire, as the one who loves you more than life itself, trust me to know what's best here."

Xander opened his mouth to say something, probably to try at least once more to plead for his sire to change his mind, but Spike stopped him short with a well placed finger.

"Go back to the car, childe," Spike ordered softly, but firmly, while physically turning his childe away.

He watched anxiously, teeth clenched, as Xander hesitated, raised a hand to swipe away the tears threatening to drown them both, and then with a choked sob took off running.

Spike didn't know if he was headed back to the car as ordered, or off to some other unknown destination, but it didn't matter. As long as it wasn't here. He'd find him later. After.

Spike, jaw set with determination, turned to face the chore ahead of him.

He could understand Xander's pain. He knew right now Xander was probably feeling betrayed by him, but Spike knew it would be worse if he let this tragic scenario play out.

Spike had tried to tell him when this whole nightmare started that he was too young to do what he was on about doing. It was too soon. He wasn't strong enough.

But like with most fledges still high off their newfound power, he didn't heed Spike's warning.

He'd been in Xander's place many, many long years ago. Unlike Xander, he hadn't had anyone to step in and clean up his mess. He'd had to face the outcome of his mistake on his own, and then live with the memory.

And live with it he did. Still does. Always will.

But not his boy. He would make this right.

He watched impassively as the dark, moist earth over the fresh grave started to shift. His nostrils flared at the scent of death and ... family permeating through the loose soil.

As the first hand surfaced Spike let the stake in the sleeve of his duster slip down into his palm.

When the top of the fledge's torso was clear, Spike stepped forward and pulled the newly born vampire free of the ground.

He didn't flinch when unholy eyes locked with his or when the demon wearing the face of a friend hissed his name with manic glee.

If his hand hesitated for a split second before connecting stake with heart, Spike didn't allow himself to notice.

Nor did he allow himself to acknowledge the moist trail now marring his stiff jaw.

"Forgive him, Willow," he entreated the dust now floating on the wind.  
Scanning the skyline, tinted blue with the coming dawn, he appended, "And please let him forgive me."

The End


End file.
